Once there was a noble valourous king,
his land shone in prosper while he was ruling.
All his subjects worshipped his holy name,
and other kings bowed; such was his fame.
But he had a pain in his heart,
which every day tore him apart;
That he had no son of his own,
who could wear his worthy crown.
“What have I done, dear minister?
Have I done anything horribly sinister
to god, to burden her that she cannot afford?
(That she, holy mud, can’t have a future lord?”)
“Ah no, thine highness, thou art kind and great,
and none can conquer thine spoil’s gate,
but mystic indeed is fate’s say,
that spoils mightiest in a crooked way
But I do know of a god’s man,
who hath done deeds only holy can,
let’s approach and pray him
and see if we can escape devil’s whim.”
Thus the noble bard sung his song,
with a voice both sweet and strong.